Medical Distraction
by IllaSc
Summary: Fang's wing is torn up, and Nudge is discouraged with finding a solution. Can Iggy help her? Oneshot. Fluffy as always. Nudge's POV. Nudgy. Different than Access Denied!


Hey peoples! You wanted more oneshots, here's one! This also follows the blog, when Fang got his "war wounds" on his wings and the pic was posted? Yeah, that one. This is Nudge's POV.

Dedication: To all the people who liked Access Denied, but didn't like the sad ending. This one has a happy one, I promise!

**Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it. **

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I was flipping frantically through the first aid book. The million-dollar question: how do you care for a wing that's been torn up and almost ripped from someone's back? That's the question I was attempting to research. 'Cuz that's what happened to Fang.

We were- duh!- in the middle of a fight with Erasers. Angel was doing her little mind-control thingie, and we were kicking butt. Then Fang tripped over a tree root and spread his wings to help keep his balance.

Unfortunately, an Eraser was behind him and tore up his right wing, right where it connects to his back. Ouch. Luckily, we ganged up on the two that were left and sent them packing.

I have to admit, it was an interesting- if not downright funny- situation. Fang kept trying to get up, but our mother hen- I mean, Max- made him lie down. Her face was pale as she pressed Gazzy's extra shirt on his wound. Angel was crying, Gazzy was pacing, and Iggy- Iggy had disappeared.

"Hey."

Speak of the devil. Well, not really. But you know what I mean.

"Hey." I skipped past burns, chafing, and ear infections, intent on my mission.

"That's the shortest sentence I've ever heard you utter."

I rolled my eyes. "Well, I'm kinda _busy,_ trying to help_ Fang_ with his _back,_ so you're going to have to deal with 'Hey.' In fact, you may just have to-"

"Whoa, whoa, enough. Just commenting."

I kept looking through the medical book without even glancing at him. He chuckled. "Be careful when reading medical books, for you may die of a misprint."

I looked up in utter confusion. "Huh?"

He laughed and sat down next to me. "It's a quote by Samuel Clemens. Also known as Mark Twain."

I was still confused and managed to still flip through the book. "How do you know? I mean, where did you get that information?" I asked.

Fang didn't have heat exhaustion...

Iggy produced a thick book with dots on top of it. I ran my fingers over the dots. It felt like it might be...

"... Braille," he confirmed. Iggy brushed the dots lightly with his own fingers. "The Life and Sayings of Mark Twain." I was awed.

"So cool. Where'd you get it? And why Mark Twain?"

He grinned again. "Well, I don't have a library card, but I'll return it. As for Mark Twain, this was on of the only Braille books they had. One of three, actually." He shrugged. "I'm really enjoying this one, though."

I paused from my search. "What were the other two?"

Iggy put on a mockingly pained expression. "A Discussion of the Immigration Habits of Monarch Butterflies and "Why Global Warming Is Happening Today. The latter was written seventy-five years ago."

I cracked up, picturing him having to read about those subjects. I glanced down at the book as I kept giggling, flipping through more un-useful topics. After a moment, he started laughing too.

On impulse, I watched Iggy. He really was cute. Tall, pale, and skinny. His strawberry-blonde hair fell just over his eyes, which were a clear, bold blue. His face had reddish freckles all over, and his cheeks dimpled when he smiled. He had a nice smile.

I realized what I was doing and turned back to the book. After all, Fang was hurt. Infections... not yet. Jaundice... I don't think so. Kidney stones... no.

"Nudge." Iggy's voice was half playful, half serious. "Were you staring at me?"

My cheeks flamed- how could he have noticed? "No."

He put his hand to my cheek and felt the heat of my furious blushing. "Liar."

I turned back to the book, embarrassed.

He leaned back against the tree trunk, turning his face to the sun. I snuck another glance at him. "That's okay," he said. "I don't mind."

I gaped at him.

Sighing, I kept flipping through pages upon pages of diseases, wounds, and solutions. Couldn't they make a bird-kid first aid kit?

Iggy turned to me. "Chin up," he commanded, enforcing it by lifting my chin with two fingers. "You'll find something."

That day, I didn't find any help on those pages, although with help from his blog readers we got Fang stitched up. But I got hit with a disease. No, it wasn't listed with the "l's," along with leg injuries, lung cancer, and lyme disease.

Yet nonetheless it exists. I experienced it. Or at least the beginnings of it.

You may be familiar with it, or even are attacked by it. Almost everything about it is paradox.

I'm talking about a wide-spread disease called, simply,

"Love."

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Okay, I know the end was cheesy, but you liked it, didn't you? If you did OR didn't, let me know!

REVIEW, PEOPLE!


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